Freaks and Geeks
by Director99
Summary: "Obviously, you've got your socs and your greasers. That's the main social divide. But within those two groups, you have a complete social hierarchy." Ponyboy Curtis isn't exactly looking forward to going back to school. But he's going to learn a lot this year, and most of it has nothing to do with the Three R's.
1. The Odds and Ends

**Author's Note: Hello lovelies! This here is another lengthy story, this time with Ponyboy as the center of attention. I know I'm still working on "Desperadoes", and I'm definitely not abandoning it. Don't worry! I just had another idea, and I wanted to get it out there ASAP. I hope you guys like it. It's post "Seven Greasers", pre "Desperadoes." Actually, it starts right after "Seven Greasers," and ends right before "Desperadoes." **  
**So here we go! (And guess what? It's in journal form!)**  
**Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders. S.E. Hinton does. I also don't own the title. The people at Freaks and Geeks do. I just thought the title was fitting.**  
XXXXX  
Dear Journal,  
Ya know, I've never had a journal before. I really hope no one finds this. The gang would think I'm going soft. The only reason I'm keeping one is because of that theme I turned in last year. Mr. Syme suggested I keep writing. I like writing, don't get me wrong, I just don't know if I'm going to aspire to being a writer. Hey, I'm only fifteen.  
I have school tomorrow. First day of my sophomore year. I'm really not looking forward to going back. My first year of high school certainly was no walk in the park, and not just because of Bob, Johnny, and Dal dying. It's just... Well, high school has a pretty screwed up dynamic.  
Obviously, you've got your socs and your greasers. That's the main social divide. But within those two groups, you have a complete social hierarchy.  
Lets start at the top. At the very top I the food chain are socs. Rich, well-dressed, cold, heartless, etc. Then you have your middle class kids. Actually, a lot of my school friends fall into here. The middle class kids are your average Joes. But within them, you've got your geeks, art freaks, burnouts, desperate wannabes, band geeks, preppies... You get my point. Then you have us greasers. The absolute bottom. The lowest of the low. You'd think we'd be above someone, maybe all the eggheads, but no. To everyone, even some of the middle class kids, we're just... Hoods. And not all of us are that bad. I'm not, despite the events of last year.  
I was thinking about all this while I watched cartoons with Two-Bit. He'd be coming back to school with me; he'd finally moved on to senior year. Bridget and Steve were juniors, so I wasn't going to be completely alone.  
"You ready for school tomorrow?" Two-Bit asked me, and I was forced to come back to reality. I let out a long puff of air.  
"I guess," I sighed. "I don't really have much of a choice I guess."  
Two-Bit nodded sagely.  
"I hear ya. I'm not really lookin' forward to it either, but hey, like it or lump it."  
"Easy for you to say; this is your last year. Unless, of course, you plan on getting held back again."  
Two-Bit looked at me pointedly.  
"Don't be a wiseass, kid. It won't get ya anywhere," he said.  
"Then how come you've come so far?" I asked airily.  
Two-Bit narrowed his eyes and swung at me, but luckily I ducked just in time, and I grabbed him from behind and slammed him to the ground. Hard.  
"You better watch yourself, Ponyboy Curtis!" Two-Bit choked out as we wrestled. "With all that smokin' you've been doin', I could handle you no problem!"  
Just then, the door swung open, closing with a loud bang.  
"Two-Bit, get off him," the voice above us commanded.  
"Yes, mother," Two-Bit mumbled.  
A hand pulled me up from the ground, but it wasn't Two-Bit's. It was his girlfriend's, Bridget.  
"Hey, Bridget," I greeted. Instead of saying hello back as is customary, she looked me up and down.  
"Not ready to go back to school?" She asked after a minute of examining me. I shook my head.  
"Me neither. Two-Bit's lucky; he's only got a year left."  
"That's what I told him," I sighed. She nodded, and walked towards Two-Bit, and started talking about something.  
I really like Bridget. We like a lot of the same stuff, and she's real nice to talk to. She's real good for Two-Bit, too. It doesn't take a genius to tell that he's nuts about her. The only problem is... Well, they hang around each other a lot. Normally, I wouldn't mind. But with school startin' up again, I don't exactly see that fact changing. They'll probably just follow each other everywhere, like all the other couples at school. Steve wouldn't hang out with me, so that leaves me alone. Two-Bit was my best buddy, especially since Johnny died and we couldn't hang out at school together. That's where Two-Bit came in.  
I just don't think it's gonna be like that this year.  
XXXXX  
Dear Journal,  
School lived up to my low expectations. It was your usual first day; get your schedule, get assigned to a locker, go to class and get the different discipline plans, and catch up with friends you haven't seen since school let out.  
At least Bridget had an interesting day. She was asked by the principal to help a new student around the school. Her name is Lydia Singer, and she has an older brother named Rocky. Bridget told me she's real quirky, and her brother's a burnout. She's one to talk; Bridget was the new girl last year, and everyone was real quick to judge her. I told her so.  
"Hey, I can have my opinions, Ponyboy Curtis. Besides, I'm a rare case," she defended. I just rolled my eyes. Bridget could be real defensive sometimes.  
I have art with her again this year. But, instead of sitting next to me like last time, she sat next to Lydia. I felt kinda betrayed, in a real kiddish way, but she and Lydia seem to like each other. They kept making each other laugh, and when some big-shot soc started talkin' lousy to Bridget, Lydia told him off.  
I guess it's kinda nice to know Bridget can still make friends with girls. The only girls she hangs around are Evie and Angela Shepard, and they're as greasy as they come. Bridget's not really like that. Really, when you think about it, Bridget is still a soc. She has this weird double life. She used to be real popular last year, but then... Well, things happened.  
XXXXX  
Dear Journal,  
There's this guy at our school, Jason Robinson, that everyone seems to be talking about. We're only into our third day of school, and he's already made a name for himself.  
From what I gathered, he apparently got laid with Christine Sweeney, a real popular soc, at a party right before the beginning of the year. I thing I heard they were both wasted or something. I don't know a whole lot about Jason; I think he's one of those real geeky guys.  
I don't see why everyone cares so much about stuff like this. Why does it matter if she's popular and he's an egghead? I actually asked the gang about this, and the guys just laughed. Well, Darry didn't. I don't think he likes me getting caught up in this sort of stuff, but Steve told me that it matters a lot who has sex with who.  
I still don't see why. It wasn't a very good explanation.  
XXXXX  
**A/N: So what do you guys think? This is the first time I've done a story like this, so I'm excited about writing it. I hope you guys want to read it!  
I'd also like to add that this story does have OCs, and it talks a lot about social status, and not just with socs and greasers. Really, it's about all the odds and ends of high school hierarchy. Just an FYI.  
Reviews always appreciated!**


	2. Easy Compositions

**Author's Note: Well here's the next chapter! Happy reading!**

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Two-Bit picked me up for school today. He was babbling about that Jason Robinson guy and Christine Sweeney. Christine's a blond, so it doesn't surprise me that Two's taken a notice to her, whether he's with Bridget or not. I brought that up, and when I did, he just shook his head.

"You're not quite there, are ya Pony?" He asked.

I didn't understand what he meant, so I just shrugged, and dropped the subject. I didn't want to get into it.

People at school were still talking about him too. I still don't see what the big deal is. Sex is just sex, right? Well, I know that sex is supposed to be this really... Special thing, and that "couples in love" are the only ones who're supposed to do it. I think. I've had about three different versions of "The Talk", and they're all pretty different. And listening in on the guys' bull sessions has got me pretty confused. So I feel kinda left out on this whole sex thing. I know I'm only supposed to be a freshman this year, but I'm not. I'm a sophomore. And being a sophomore that doesn't know a whole lot about this stuff... Well, I just think I'm supposed to be further along in this department.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Bridget is still hanging around with Lydia. I've been feeling kinda shunned in art. She doesn't talk to me or anything. I don't get it; before school started, she would do a lot of things with me, and we spent most of our day together, if she wasn't off with Two-Bit or Evie and Angela. Now she ignores me. At school at least.

Sodapop and Darry say she probably just wants to get to know Lydia better. Now I'm pretty sure Sodapop and Darry aren't the ones getting shunned by one of their best friends. I mean, Bee helps Darry around the house all the time, and she goes out with Soda and Steve a lot. Then, in between, she's out with Two-Bit.

I don't quite see where I fit into all this.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

We got our first assignment today in English composition. I think it's a pretty easy one: Write about your best day.

My best day was a pretty long time ago, when mom and dad were still alive. All of us, the gang included, rode up to this cabin we used to have out in the country. We spent the whole day swimming and goofing around, and everyone just forgot about all the bad stuff for awhile. Even Dallas relaxed a bit.

I was able to write all of this in about an hour. The paper only had to be a page. I let Bridget read it.

"I hope you have a hard time answering questions like this someday, Pony," she said. I thought that was confusing.

"Whaddya mean?" I asked. She smiled a bit.

"What I mean is that I hope you have more days like this Ponyboy. That's what I mean."

I nodded slowly, still not quite sure what she was getting at.

"Have you decided what you're writing about yet?" I asked. She was taking the same class as I was. It was an elective.

"I dunno yet. I can't think of anything," Bridget sighed.

It's funny, 'cuz I could think of a million things Bridget could write about.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

We had an assembly today about underage drinking. Honestly, I think that's the least of our schools' problems. I don't really care about drinking. I don't like it. I tried it once, and Darry grounded me. Thanks, Steve.

Anyway, I'm used to seeing people drink. Two-Bit does it all the time. I've seen all the guys in the gang do it at one point or another, even Johnny. And most kids at our school couldn't give a hang about it, so why bother?

Of course, there're the kids who probably wouldn't mind, in Bridget's words, if we went back to the days of prohibition. Those kids are real squares. I once saw Two-Bit and Steve teasing a whole bunch of 'em in the hall. Can't say I was exactly proud to be their buddies when I saw that. Those kids were real torn up.

Alright, back to what I was saying. We're at this assembly, and I walk into the cafetorium, and I scan the crowd for someone to sit with. Two-Bit is sitting with a guy from the Shepard gang, Steve had been forced by Evie to sit with him, and Bridget was with-guess who?-Lydia. I don't see why she didn't sit with Two; maybe Lydia didn't want to. Two-Bit can look pretty rough when he wants to. I decided to take my chances with Two-Bit and the guy from the Shepard gang, whose name turned out to be Rocky Evans.

It's moments like these when I really miss Johnny.

XXXXX

Dear Journal

There's this kid at school named Will, who's apparently retarded. I never knew about him. I apparently don't know about a lot of things at school. Anyway, I finally found out about Will today during lunch hour. Steve, Two-Bit, and I were outside sitting on the hood of Steve's car. We weren't doing anything out of the usual, just talking and drinking Pepsi's. Just like normal. I was kinda scanning the crowd, tuning out another one of Two-Bit's ridiculous tall tales. That's when I saw them: Two guys and a girl were talking to this guy I'd never seen before, who turned out to be Will. The two guys and the girl were laughing really hard, and Will just seemed to be confused, but then sorta seemed as though he caught on and joined them. I didn't think much of it until I heard someone tsking under their breath. I turned to see who it was, and saw Bridget sitting next to Two-Bit, his arm wrapped around her. They were both looking in the same direction I was. They both had really disapproving looks on their faces. I couldn't help but think that they suddenly looked a lot older. Like they knew all these secrets. I gave them a questioning look.

"You don't know him, do you?" Bridget asked. I shook my head slowly.

"Well, that's Will. He's... Slow," Bridget responded slowly.

"What do you mean 'slow'?" I asked.

"He's retarded, kid," Steve mumbled.

It made sense now what those kids were doing over there. My heart sank.

"Should we help him?" I asked.

Two-Bit shook his head.

"I don't think we'd be able to do much, kiddo," he said.

I talked about Will that night after dinner. Sodapop said he remembered him. That they were in the same class in third grade with him and Steve.

"He's not mean or dangerous or nothin'," Sodapop insisted. "He's just slow to get things. And he doesn't really understand people."

"So a lot like you, I guess?" Steve retorted. Soda just rolled his eyes.

"I'm not the retard in this bunch. That's Two-Bit's job."

I laughed, but I don't think I really found what they were saying funny. I don't see why that sort of thing was funny. Like I don't get why those kids were messing with him earlier.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

We got our papers for English composition back today. I got an "A" on mine, which I was pretty happy about. I guess Bridget finally found out what she was gonna write about, because she got a paper back today. I watched her face scan the paper. Her expression started out pretty happy, but sunk as she made we way down the page. I asked her later what she wrote about.

"I wrote about the day I made up with Two-Bit after we had that big fight," she said. I nodded.

"Did you get a good grade?" I asked. She nodded.

"Then why did you look so upset when you looked at your paper?" I asked her, confused. Bridget looked down at her hands.

"She commented that I was too young to be in love. That I can't know at this age who I'm going to spend the rest of my life with."

Our teacher had a valid point. Most people this age don't know who they're going to spend the rest of their life with. But Two-Bit and Bridget were different. They were... They were real. They got each other, and they seemed to really like each other. Mrs. White just doesn't know them. She doesn't know what they're like together. That you can tell that they're head over heels for each other.

I saw Bridget and Two-Bit talking later. Two-Bit was reading her paper, and Bee was talking while he did so. He had the same reaction Bridget did by the time he got to the end of the paper, but he looked a lot madder. Then he started saying a lot of stuff to her that I couldn't hear. I would ask them, but I don't think that it would be a good idea to bring it up. I'm sure it had something to do with the comment Mrs. White left about them not knowing if they're really in love. Mrs. White must be blind.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Two-Bit wasn't in a very good mood today. Steve and I were barely able to get him to talk, and he wasn't his usual self. Even when we got home he was still mad. I think it might have something to do with Bridget's paper. I heard him talking to Darry later that night, but, again, I couldn't make out anything either of them was saying.

In the meantime, we've gotten our next assignment. You have to write about your role model. I think that's a pretty typical topic for papers. Teachers probably think it's easy, and kids know they can easily make something up without really meaning it. There're a lot of people that could potentially be my role model. I could take the easy route and say that someone like Paul Newman was my hero, or I could do something more personal. Get my drift? I just have no idea who yet.

XXXXX

**A/N: Okay, another chapter. Couple notes:**

**-When I use "retarded", I just want you all to know that that is not how I refer to people with mental disabilities. That was just the time.**

**-This story will pick up. These early journal entries that Ponyboy is writing are set-up for later events in the story, so chapters won't be very long yet. Just bear with me here.**

**Thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticisms always appreciated!**


	3. The Sound of Silence

**Author's Note: Hey again, guys! Next chapter. I'm gonna warn y'all now, this first entry in this chapter has some weird stuff in it. Really weird. Everyone, listen to Darry in this chapter. He knows what the hell he's talking about. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders or The Graduate. And anything else I clearly don't own.**

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I had this really horrible dream last night. It's all Bridget and Steve's fault, really. Bridget was telling me about this guy her dad used to know at his university in New York, and he was one of his colleagues. Another history professor. Apparently, this guy was a real creeper. Obsessed with dead guys and all that crap. I guess that kinda makes sense, considering he's a teacher of history. I mean, pretty much anybody you're gonna talk about is dead, right? I mentioned that, and Bridget went on to say that wasn't the extent of his obsession. You see, her dad was walking past this guy's classroom one time, and he heard a bunch of loud crashes coming from inside. He opened the door, and saw this guy taking apart a skeleton. Bridget's dad, Thom, asked him what he was doing. The guy just stared at him, and then went back to taking it apart.

"So it turns out this guy is, like, a necrophiliac. He goes on digs and screws all these bodies that've been dead for hundreds of years," Bridget explained.

Everyone either had their mouth hanging wide open, or was laughing. (*Cough* Two-Bit *Cough*.) Darry, however, was unimpressed.

"That's just stupid gossip. You have no idea if that's true," Darry insisted. Bridget just shrugged.

"You know what I heard?" Steve asked.

"No, Steve, what did you hear?" Darry sighed. He sounded about as amused by this subject as I felt.

"Enlighten us, Steve-o!" Two-Bit exclaimed.

Steve went on to tell us the story of a man who had stolen a hearse, and... Did that with the corpse. When the cops found him, they put him in the cooler for thirty years. This conversation was starting to seriously creep me out. All this talk about people having fetishes for dead people... There's no way in hell that can be in any way okay.

So that night, I had a nightmare about someone thinking I was dead, and trying to screw me. I had been in the back of a hearse, and the person-I don't know who-was driving. And then they tried to have sex with me. It was a lot like Steve's story. I woke up screaming, and I scared the hell out of Soda. When I told Soda what the dream was about, he stomped out to the living room and yelled at Steve, who was crashing on our couch. It's weird that I remember this nightmare; I usually don't.

Bridget and Steve apologized to me later that day, and they told me that they didn't actually know any necrophiliacs, or any real stories about them.

"Can't believe ya didn't catch on to that," Steve murmured, clearly pissed about getting reprimanded by Darry and Soda.

Bridget didn't look mad, but I can't believe she got away with setting me up like that. I think she's actually sorry, but I'm not too sure about Steve.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

We got another theme topic today. It was "How would your friends characterize you?" Mrs. White was sure starting out easy. This is our third theme, but they've all been simple. I've gotten A's on the others, and I'm hoping for something a bit more challenging. She did say, however, that we could ask our friends how they would describe us.

Right after class, I saw Bridget run right up to Lydia and I heard her talking about the assignment. I'm gonna have to ask Bridget what's so damn great about Lydia.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Will, the kid I wrote about a while back, made another appearance today. I saw him at his locker. It's not too far from Steve's locker, actually. He's one of the only reasons I would even be in the junior hall. Anyway, it's not like Will did anything, or did something that someone with his kind of problem does. He was just sorta... There. I remembered those kids from a few weeks ago who were screwing with him. I bet he gets a lot of that.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I was in the record store with Bridget and Two-Bit this afternoon. Steve's starting to accuse me of being a third wheel on their "dates", and I'm starting to feel like one, too. I don't bring the subject up though because I like hanging around the two of them. They just so happen to be boyfriend and girlfriend.

Anyway, we're in the record store. Bridget's looking for some hippie artist... Jefferson Airplane, I think. Then this girl walks in, right over to the same section Bee's looking at. She's got really long red hair, and she's wearing torn up bell bottoms and tie-dye. She was kinda cute, I guess. Out of nowhere, she asks Bridget what her name is. She tells her, then the girl introduces herself as Rose. Then they start talking about San Francisco, out in California. It's funny, this Angie girl looks exactly like how Bridget talks. Get what I'm saying? It's like, if Bridget looked like the person she sounds like when she talks, she'd look like this Rose girl. I saw Two-Bit eyeing the two of them. I was standing right next to him, and I could hear him muttering something under his breath. I asked him why he was talking to himself, and he said that it's because he was going insane. I figured I wouldn't be able to get a straight answer from him, so I let it drop.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I'm still thinking about that Rose girl. She sure had a lot to talk about. I don't think Bridget gave her much of a second thought, but she seemed kinda interesting to me. I mean, those hippies are the kind of people Darry tells me to stay away from. It's kinda hypocritical I guess, because Bridget seems to be going down that path, and she's taking Two-Bit with her. Anyway, what she talked about sounded interesting. She had been to Washington D.C., and she talked about the protests she had participated in. There sure were a lot of things to protest against. I've heard the gang talk about it some, but it hasn't been a huge topic of discussion.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I asked Two-Bit today how he would characterize me. He said "a daydreamy little squirt." I don't think that's gonna get me a good grade.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Nope. It didn't. No matter how I twisted it, I never could seem to work "daydreamy little squirt" into a paper. Guess I should ask more people next time.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Not long after Johnny and Dallas died, Bridget and I snuck into the movie "_The_ _Graduate_." It's pretty good, but I didn't understand all of it. Bridget seemed to, and I guess that was good. I was only fourteen then, and she was sixteen. I guess you learn a lot about what's going on in that movie in those two years.

Anyway, we both really liked the movie, even if I didn't get all of it. So, Bridget bought the soundtrack to it, which was done by Simon and Garfunkel. It was all these real pretty folk songs. I really liked "_The Sound of Silence_." She used to play it all the time. Now she doesn't. Now she listens to Jefferson Airplane and Janis Joplin all the time. I get a feeling that she's not the same person I met last year, and that's really pissing me off. First she was a soc, then she started leading this double life of hers, and now she's becoming a hippie. She can't stay put! One day she's one type of person, the next day she's another. Steve said she might be bipolar, but I doubt that. If you're bipolar your mood shifts constantly. Then again, her mood does change a lot. Maybe she is bipolar, I don't know. All I know is that she isn't quite the same anymore. Kinda like Benjamin Braddock. But if she's Benjamin, who's gonna be Elaine? Mrs. Robinson? Whatever. I think I'm gonna ask her for that album. She doesn't listen to it anymore anyways.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I actually asked her. I actually asked if I could have the album. She gave it to me, and didn't even ask why. But I know she could tell that there was something behind my asking. Bridget just brought it over to my house, and gave it to me without a word. She had a small smile on her face, and I kinda thought for a second that she might say something. But then she quietly said she had to go to Lydia's house, and she left.

I'm listening to the album right now while I write this. I keep trying to picture the scene in the movie when the different songs are playing, but I can't remember them that well. I didn't even remember the songs that well. It's like I haven't even seen the movie, or heard these songs a million times before.

I feel like such a jerk. I shouldn't have asked for the album. I don't even know what I'm listening to.

XXXXX

**A/N: ** **Hey guys. Just a heads-up, the chapters in this story will be shorter than the chapters in my other stories. It just sorta is that way. Anywho, reviews and constructive criticism always appreciated!**


	4. Not the Only One

**Author's Note: Hey** **again, guys! Next chapter. (Finally!) Reviews and constructive criticism always appreciated! Happy reading!**

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Wow. I haven't written in here for a couple weeks. I want go keep up with this, but it isn't always the easiest thing to remember to write in your journal as often as possible.

Not a whole lot has happened. Nothing, really. Well, I did finally meet Lydia. She came up to Bridget as I was walking her to her next class. Lydia's... Different. She dresses different from everyone, she talks different. But she seems okay. I can see why Bridget likes her. They think alike. I don't know a whole lot about Lydia's older brother, Rocky, but I hope he's like her. I wouldn't want Bridget to be friends with some burnout.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

We're getting really close to November, the month in which Johnny and Dallas died. I'm really amazed that they've been dead almost a year. It's a weird sort of amazing. Like, I'm extremely sad they're dead, but the fact that it's been a year that we've lived without them just seems unreal. My parents have been gone a little over a year, and I'm still getting used to that. Darry's a really good guardian, I know that now, but he isn't our parents. It's the same thing with Dal and Johnny. I can make new friends, but they won't be able to replace them.

I really hate having these thoughts. I sometimes get the feeling that Johnny and Dally's deaths are all my fault. But I wouldn't tell anyone that.

XXXXX

Dearest Ponyboy's Journal/Diary/Notebook Thing,

So that was YOU who made MY girl fork over her private property? And you think she's ignoring you? And that her friends are weird? Well, I can see why she would avoid you.

Love, your bestest friend on the face of the earth,

Col. Two-Bit Mathews Esquire the Third

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I have no idea how Two-Bit found my journal. But I guess he read all the entries, because now he's kinda pissed off at me. Everyone else is in the dark, even Bridget. But I guess I get why he's mad... Maybe. I just said that Bridget isn't really the same anymore.

Anyway, I'm gonna have to find a new hiding spot for this.

XXXXX

Ponyboy's Diary,

No, he told me. I know what's going on. Not cool, you little fuck.

Love always,

Steve

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Okay, great. Now Steve knows how I feel about Bridget hanging out with Lydia. And he told Sodapop (naturally), who told Darry, who asked Two-Bit about it, and they all confronted me. I'm not even quite sure why they were mad. All I did was ask for an album she doesn't listen to anymore. And... Well, Steve and Two-Bit did read about how I think she's a different person now, and that I don't like that. But how does that suddenly make me a bad person? Just because I want her to go back to being the person I met in art class doesn't mean I'm some demon. Dammit, I really don't get this shit.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Today I got partnered up with Jason Robinson, the guy who apparently screwed Christine Sweeney, in science. I only just now noticed he was even in my class. I really am an airhead sometimes. We're dissecting pig fetuses, which is kinda disgusting and kinda interesting at the same time. It'll be cool to see inside it, but at the same time I feel bad for the dead pig.

Jason really is kinda a dork. He looks like one, talks like one, acts like one. He's real brainy, but then again, I guess I am too. And I look nothing like Jason. Just goes to show that it doesn't matter what you look like; you can lay anyone.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I asked Jason Robinson if he really had sex with Christine Sweeney. I actually did it. We were doing some background stuff for the dissection, and I don't know... It just came out. It's all I could think about when I saw him, and I figured asking would make it stop. When I asked, he kinda looked at me funny. Real smooth, Ponyboy. I'm such a dumbass. Anyway, he laid his pencil down, and he let out a small sigh. He finally said yes, he did. Jason probably gets asked that question a lot, but I had to ask him. Now I feel like a tool.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I'm never dissecting anything again.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Okay, that last entry was really vague. But I wasn't thinking clearly when I wrote it. So let me explain what happened.

We dissected our pig fetuses today. Again, I thought it would be kinda cool. We got to see the insides, and how everything was linked. I don't quite see how learning about pig fetuses will help us later in life, but oh well. I'm not much of a science guy, but I like it just enough to get interested in it sometimes. Anyway, Jason and I are dissecting this thing, when we suddenly hear this scream from the lab table behind us. We turn around to see what was going on, and this girl is gagging on something in her mouth. Jason gives me a real startled look, and he looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"It's from the pig," he whispered to me.

My eyes got wide, because I realized that she was gagging on something from inside the pig. Well, I guess Jason has better self-control than I do, because I started laughing. He kinda started laughing too, 'cuz that's just one of those things you have to laugh at. It's just the situation.

Well, that was all fine and dandy, until we heard the girl cough really weird, and before I know it-SPLAT!-my backside is covered in vomit. Well, my entire back was. I was kinda paralyzed, because I wasn't too sure if I should move. The whole class had gotten really quiet. I wanted people to stop staring at me, so I just slowly started to pull my sweatshirt off. Then I dropped it on the ground, and it, consequently, fell into more vomit. Great. I don't think I'm gonna want that back.

I caught the eyes of the girl who had thrown up on me. She had her hand over her mouth, and she looked kinda sorry.

I'm pretty sure I'm the only person who could manage to have something like this happen to them.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I told the guys what happened at school today, minus Bridget. Two-Bit and Steve thought it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard. Hell, even Soda was smiling a bit. But Darry didn't think it was funny. He looked at me with one of those sympathetic looks that you give a sick person you don't exactly want to get close to. But he wasn't laughing, so that's a plus.

Two-Bit went on to tell us a story about a kid in his first grade class that threw up on the kid in front of him, who went on to throw up on the kid in front of him, who threw up on the kid in front of him... so on and so forth. Then a few girls ran out of the room so they could go throw up in the restroom. Two-Bit must've had about half his class gone by the end of the day. He also said that he wasn't one of the kids who ralphed, and claims it was a sign as to how well he would go on to hold his alcohol. What a dumbass. There are some days that I can't remember why I'm friends with him.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I found out who the girl was. The one who threw up on me. The only reason I know is because when the teacher took attendance, she was the only person absent. Her name's Angie Petersen. I already don't like her. I don't think I could ever like anyone who blew chunks on me.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I haven't felt too great lately. I'm hoping I'm just still slightly traumatized by the incident from the other day, and I'm just still recovering.

Oh, and another thing. I went back to the record store with Bridget today, and I saw the girl named Rose again. She recognized Bridget, but not me. Apparently, her dad owns the store. After that, she and Bee struck up a conversation. It's was kinda strange, 'cause it's not everyday that you see Bridget Stevens talk to someone she barely knows. I'm surprised she has any friends outside of the gang, considering how quiet she can get in public. But, again, Two-Bit is her boyfriend, and that guy talks in his sleep, so...

I gotta work on my homework now. Darry's been bugging me about it for an hour now, so I figure I better get to it.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Well. I'm sick. Thanks a lot, broad who threw up all over me. I should send her a card. It would be something like, "Remember pig dissection? When you threw up all over me? Yeah, now I'm pukin' my guts up. Thanks! Best wishes, Ponyboy Curtis."

Yeah, it would be exactly like that.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Darry made Two-Bit stay home with me today because everyone else had work, and I guess he doesn't trust me to take care of myself. I guess that's okay. I really don't mind company. But Two-Bit's company is different. He kept bugging me and making bad jokes, and I threatened to throw up on him if he didn't quit bothering me. That shut him up.

I wasn't feeling too hot around noon. Well, I wasn't feeling too hot at all, at any time of the day, but I felt especially bad around that time. I was kinda all curled into the fetal position, trying not to cry. I probably looked beyond pathetic, but I felt really lousy and there wasn't exactly a whole lot I could do about it. So I just rocked back and forth and moaned. I guess Two-Bit heard me (that was kinda the idea), and he came stomping into my room. He looked at me kinda funny, then asked me point blank,

"You gonna blow chunks?"

It was my turn to look at him weird, but he just continued like I didn't understand what he'd said.

"Ya know... Uncork your gut? Ralph? Throw up? Kid, do you feel alright?"

I stared at him a second longer before shaking my head. I bet he thought I was pretty pathetic-looking. But Two-Bit just left the room and came back with a chair from the dining room, and sat down in it next to mine and Soda's bed. Then he just sat there like that, either looking at me or around the room. Every once in awhile he'd feel my forehead or neck, or mess around with his switchblade.

"Hey, kid?" He started at one point.

"Yeah?" I grunted.

"I know this is a kinda weird time to be bringin' this up, but... What you wrote about Bridget... I kinda agree with you. That she's driftin' away."

He was right. It was a weird time to be bringing it up. But I was curious to see what he meant, so I played along with him.

"Are you worried?" I asked him. Two-Bit shrugged.

"Maybe. Jus' don't want her getting into anything stupid with the people she's been hangin' around. Anyways, I don't blame you for thinking that. 'Cuz you ain't the only one."

I'm not the only one. I wonder if he meant just himself, or Steve and Sodapop and Darry too. Maybe she was drifting away for real, like she was becoming a soc again and forgetting about us. It seems like lately the whole soc/greaser thing has been fading a bit, but the tension is still there. Are Lydia and Rocky socs? I dunno. Maybe she... I don't know. All this thinking is too much for me right now.

XXXXX

**A/N: Pardon typos. Reviews and constructive criticism always appreciated. Reviews=Faster Updates. Simple as that.**


	5. Heaven, Pepsi, and Bob Dylan

**Author's Note: Hey again, guys! Next chapter. **

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I went back to school today. Sodapop dropped me off on his way to work. He made some corny joke about there not being any banners or nothing welcoming me back. I rolled my eyes, but he was smiling, so I couldn't help but do so too.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

The girl who threw up on me is back today, but she's not behind me and Jason and anymore. She moved to the other side of the room. Whatever. I really don't care.

On a more interesting note, Jason and I are starting to get to know each other better. He's actually not quite as geeky as I thought he was. He's pretty funny, but not in like a Two-Bit way. More like a Bridget or Steve way. They're witty, and both of them are total smartasses. So all three of them just make a bunch of retorts and... I dunno, make fun of society.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Soda, Steve, and Two-Bit got into a very detailed discussion about-get this-beauty marks. Ya know, like Marilyn Monroe has?

These are the people I make friends with.

Anyway, they were talking about how they actually don't make girls prettier. That they're distracting. I mean, in all those paintings you see of French women from a really long time ago, ya know, the ones with the big powdered wigs and stuff, they have one. What the hell.

Honestly, I guess I'd have to agree with the guys. I mean, c'mon, it's a mark on your face. How could you not stare at it?

Wait. That might be the point. Because you're actually kinda staring at the gal's face.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Some girl bumped into me in the hallway today while I was at my locker. She smelled really good.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Man. Tomorrow is the day. The day that Dally and Johnny died. Kinda funny to think that at this time last year, I risked my own life to save kids from a burning church. It's weird. I'm fifteen; a couple of my friends shouldn't be dead yet.

Everyone's been in a real funky mood. Like we don't know what to do with ourselves. I know I don't. I don't feel as though I should do something. Like, it would be disrespectful in some way to Johnny and Dallas.

When I was little, the only relative that I can remember dying is my grandmother. My dad's mom. I guess you could say that my mom was one of those good Christian ladies; always going to church on Sunday and such. So when my grandmother died, she told me that she would go up to Heaven since she had been a good person in life, and when we die, we'll join her. I was real little at the time, like six, so that made perfect sense to me. I mean, I knew what Heaven was, and supposedly that good people go there and bad people go to Hell. Our parents took us to church almost every Sunday, so I learned about all that stuff in Sunday school. But the thing is, as I got older and my parents died, I sorta... Lost faith? What I mean is, I really couldn't find anything to take away from church anymore. Like, how do we even know it's real? None of us are dead yet; we have no damn clue if there's a Heaven and Hell. And people always say that God loves you, and all that stuff. But if he's so good, why is he killing everyone I care about? That just seems cruel.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Well, since today is the day Johnny and Dally died, my only plans were to just mope around. But Two-Bit and Bridget changed all that when they came over with pizza, beer, and Pepsi.

"Y'all can't just mope around tonight. We can't feel sorry for ourselves," Two-Bit explained.

So we ate pizza and drank beer. Well, I didn't drink beer. I have a feeling the Pepsi was mostly for me. But it wasn't a bad night like I thought it would be. We laughed and watched _Get Smart,_ and got our minds off all the crappy stuff.

After awhile, I stepped outside onto the front porch so I could smoke and just sorta clear my head. Think. I wasn't alone for too long though because Bridget came out a few minutes after I did.

"How're you doing, kid?" She asked me. I watched her sit herself down on the porch swing, and she watched me right back.

"I guess I'm okay," I answered. She nodded her head.

"Yeah. That's good," Bridget sighed.

We sat in silence for awhile. I was thinking a lot about Dal and Johnny, and I suddenly remembered what my mom told me when my grandmother died.

"Do you think there's a Heaven?" I asked Bridget.

"No," she answered quickly. "I don't."

"Why not?"

"There's no evidence. It's wishful thinking, really. That there's something waiting for us. Salvation."

Bridget was looking at me right in the eyes, and I couldn't help but think she looked really sincere.

"Do you think there's a God?" I asked. Bridget pursed her lips and shook her head.

"Nope. If there was one, why would he put us through all this shit? Some God, if ya ask me," she explained. "God's not mysterious; he's a figment of the imagination. And a dick, too."

"That's what I was thinking," I whispered. "But if there is no God, and there's no Heaven or Hell, where do we go when we die?"

Bee twisted her mouth to the side in thought, rocking slowly in the porch swing.

"Back to the earth, I guess. Hindus believe that we get reincarnated, but I think that we disintegrate and become part of the earth again. But I really don't know."

She didn't really know. No one really knows. No living person could. And the dead can't talk to us, so we couldn't figure it out from them. It was funny, 'cuz as we sat there, I couldn't help but stare at her. She looked real good with the moonlight bouncing off her skin. Kinda like she wasn't of this earth. Some sort of goddess or something.

"How're you liking that album?" Bridget asked quietly. She was talking about the Simon and Garfunkel soundtrack I made her give me. I couldn't decide if she sounded bitter or not. The thought of me doing that made my skin crawl.

"It's good," I lied. She nodded her head.

"Do you like Bob Dylan, Ponyboy?" She asked me. Out of nowhere. I shrugged.

"I dunno. I don't listen to him too much, I s'pose."

Bee smiled. It was real soft, but it reached her eyes. She looked even prettier when she smiled.

"Well," she drawled. "Looks like you'll be borrowing more albums from me."

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I think the record store is a place where I will be spending a lot of time from now on. It's the first place Bridget took me today. And at like, eleven in the morning. I'm not always even awake by that time some days.

"Hey Rose," Bridget called the second we entered the store. The ginger came from a back room, and stood behind the counter.

Bridget then proceeded to introduce me to Rose Walker.

"She'll set you up with some good stuff, Pony," Bridget winked. "I'll be looking around while she shows ya some stuff you might like."

Bee walked off, leaving me alone with Rose Walker. I was wrong about her hair; it was more of a rusty/auburn color, kinda like Two-Bit's. She seemed to smile a lot, and she had this small gap in her teeth in the very front. Her eyes were grey. I guess she was kinda cute, but that's it. She was cute.

Rose dragged me over to a corner of the store, and she just started shoving albums at me, some small talk in between.

"How old are you?" She'd ask.

"Fifteen," I'd answer.

"Do you go to Will Rogers?"

"Yeah."

"So does one of my friends. I'm an eighth grader, how 'bout you?"

"I'm a sophomore. I got moved up a grade."

"That's cool."

"I guess."

At one point, she stopped flipping through records and just sorta stared at me. I stared back at her, sorta confused. But then she said,

"I've known who you are for awhile. You're one of the boys who saved those kids from that church."

It was funny, 'cuz people usually remembered me for being with Johnny when he killed Bob. But not Rose. Rose remembered the good thing we did.

By the end of the trip, I had three Bob Dylan albums, and an album by the Byrds. Bridget had one from a group called "The Band." Talk about obvious.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I listened to one of my new albums today. There's this song I think I've heard before, _Like a Rolling Stone_, that I like. That Bob Dylan guy sure has a funky voice, but I like it. Sodapop and Darry don't seem to. Soda keeps trying to take it off the turntable, but I always catch him. Darry just sorta grumbles about his voice, and how annoying it is. Whatever. I don't care, 'cuz I like it.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

We got another theme topic today. It's "Do you believe in love at first sight? Have you ever fallen in love just by looking at someone?" This won't be too easy for me. I've never been in love before. Sure, I've thought girls are pretty before, but fallen in love? I don't think so. We have two weeks to do it, but I really don't think I'm gonna fall in love in that time.

I think Mrs. White chose this topic because the play that's being performed this spring is some sort of romance. I don't know what it exactly is, but someone's faint in love with another person. You know how it works. A lot of the girls like this topic because it's all gooey and cutesy, and girls like that stuff for the most part. Even Bridget looked excited, and she started babbling to the girls next to her about it. Probably talking about Two-Bit or something. Their boyfriends. It was weird, because I felt very alone as I watched her talk.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I'm home alone right now. Which kinda sucks because it's really stormy out, and I'm not a big fan of storms. I don't usually mind being home alone either, but it's also really late. Darry, Steve, and Soda are working late, and Two-Bit's off somewhere, and Bridget's... I don't know. Off doing whatever she does. So yeah. I'm alone.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Okay, I'm freaked out because there's a TON of thunder and lightning, Darry and Sodapop aren't home yet, and the phone keeps ringing. Like, this is the third time in the past forty-five minutes. It's probably some psycho who's gonna kill me. He's just bidding his time. Oh my god. I'm gonna die tonight. And Darry and Sodapop won't know a damn thing.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Okay, I sounded sorta ridiculous in that last entry. I finally picked up the phone, and it was just some telemarketer that wanted our money. I just hung up on him. Plus, Soda's home now. But not Darry. He usually doesn't work this late at the warehouse. I wonder where he is.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Well, I found out where Darry is. He was in a car crash.

XXXXX

**A/N: HA! Left ya with a cliffhanger! Sorry, not sorry. ;)**

**Pardon typos. Reviews and constructive criticism always appreciated. **


	6. The Aftermath

**Author's Note: Hey again, guys! Next chapter**.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Alright. That last entry would be really vague and scary to anyone else reading this (although no one else SHOULD be reading this), so I should probably write what happened.

For starters:

-Darry's not dead.

-Darry's not hurt too bad. A little cut up, but nothing that required him to see a doctor.

-Darry's truck is, how do you say it... Oh, yeah. Totaled.

The other guy, who actually caused the crash, is okay too. But Dar's real pissed at him for making him crash his truck. His got the most damage, and he's gonna have to get it fixed. And it's gonna cost a lot of money. So Darry and Sodapop are gonna have to pick up some extra shifts. They won't get to spend as much time with the gang as they usually do until they pay off the damages, but insurance will help some with that. I'm just glad that Dar's okay.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Steve claims that he and Soda can fix Darry's truck. Yeah, right. He hasn't even seen the damage yet.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

He's seen it. And he doesn't like what he sees.

Long story short, he ain't fixing up that truck.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Remember Will? The guy who's mentally retarded? I saw him talking to Steve today.

To Steve.

I remember Sodapop saying that he and Steve were in the same class as Will when I brought him up a couple months ago. But what surprised me is that Steve... Well, Steve doesn't usually talk to people like that. He doesn't have anything against them I don't think, but he's not a patient guy. He'd probably get real frustrated with someone like Will. But I guess he has the patience for him. I'm a bit surprised.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I'm working on that paper we got in composition, the one about love at first sight. I asked a couple people to help me out with it, but that hasn't worked too well. I asked Sodapop if he's ever fallen in love with someone at first sight, and he of course said Sandy. But Sandy backfired. A lot. So I figured she shouldn't count. Then I asked Steve about Evie, and he said that he didn't even believe in love at first sight. So he was no help. Darry hasn't been on a date since before mom and dad died, so I didn't even bother asking him.

So that left Two-Bit and Bridget.

Two-Bit swore on his life that he knew he was in love with Bridget from the moment he saw her. When she heard that, Bridget rolled her eyes and said,

"That's bullshit. Don't listen to him. We hated each other when we met, it wasn't love at first sight."

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" I asked them. Bridget bit her lip in thought.

"I guess so..." She trailed off.

"I definitely do," Two-Bit interjected. "Ya know, 'cuz I fell in love with Bridget at first sight."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help but laugh a bit as the two of them playfully fought with each other. I think that's what love looks like.

But then I felt really bad. Because I want love like that.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Well, I finished that theme up. Basically, I said that I do believe in love at first sight, but I personally had never experienced it. When I turned it in yesterday, I felt as though a thousand people were watching me turn it in. I had nothing to be self-conscious about, really. I just felt funky writing about love, that's all. I've never had a girl say they love me. There're tons of guys who get that everyday. I hear the girls that guys are going steady with say "I love you" all the time.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

There was a note in my locker today. It was anonymous. Ooh. Just like elementary school. It said:

"Do you like Christine? Yes or No."

Christine who? There were a handful of Christines at our school, it could be any one of them. I suppose it could be Christine Sweeney, but I really don't want to get into anything with her. I just ended up throwing it away.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I've made a guy really angry. I remember him as one of the guys who confronted me at the corner store last year after Johnny and Dallas died, and after the hearing. He was one of the guys I threatened with a busted pop bottle.

Anyway, I've made him angry. If anything, Jason set me up for all this, but I don't want to bring him into it. What happened is, Jason and I were walking to science together, and the guy that's angry at me was making fun of some freshman, and Jason walked over without saying a word to me, and confronted him. I followed him, and he was really saying some nasty stuff to the guy. Well, the guy was already pissed at Jason, but when he saw me he got even angrier.

"Yer that kid who killed Bob," he snarled. "I'm gonna get you, boy."

I gulped. I hadn't even done anything! I didn't kill Bob, and I wasn't yelling at him like Jason was! But then again, I didn't have to follow Jason I guess. But now this guy's mad at me, and he's gonna do something to me. Glory, can't wait to see what it is.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I think Darry and Soda are having a hard time with the bills. They were talking in hushed tones last night, and I would bet my life they were talking about money. But I did hear this:

"We're fucked, Soda. If we can't use the truck, how in the hell are we gonna get to work? We need work to pay off the damages, and we still have our monthly payments on top of that!"

"Dar, it's fine. We're gonna make it work," Soda sighed. "We're just gonna have to cut back, that's all."

"It's not that easy, Sodapop. It's really not." Sodapop sighed loudly.

"I know. But we don't have a lot of options here."

Now in kinda scared. If Darry and Soda can't pay the bills, then we really are screwed. Darry would probably lose custody of the two of us, and that would be terrible. I'm happy here. I don't want to leave. So the the two of them better figure something out.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I got another one of those notes in my locker today. Same thing, but I know which Christine the first note was talking about. It was talking about Christine Sweeney. Why would Christine Sweeney like me? I don't even think we've met. How can you like someone you don't even know? It's all kinda confusing. I threw the new note away too.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I think Darry is just gonna get a new truck. The old one is in such bad shape. It kinda sucks that he's gonna get a new one though. I mean, I know we can't fix the old one, but I like the old truck. We've had it a real long time. It used to be dad's, and I don't want to see it gone. It's like losing a piece of him. But it isn't Darry's fault. It's not his fault that the guy in front of him stopped so suddenly like that.

We won't get a new car for awhile. Soda suggested that instead of a truck, we get a Stingray. It was a joke,-I should know, I laughed at it-but Darry rolled his eyes and launched into a whole big speech about how we can't afford it, they're unreasonable, blah blah blah. It was just a joke; Darry needs to learn to lighten up.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Well, it's been an interesting evening at my house. Right as we, the three of us plus Steve, were getting ready to eat dinner, Bridget stormed through the door, followed by Two-Bit. At first I was worried that something was wrong with the two of them because Bee looked real pissed. But Two-Bit was smiling, so I figured it couldn't be anything too serious.

"My dad's getting married," Bridget blurted out. She looked at us with her arms crossed, and her eyes flickered angrily. But Two-Bit looked like he was about to start laughing at any second.

"Um... What's wrong with that?" I asked. People getting married is a good thing. Besides, Bee's dad, Thom, was a real nice guy. For an adult, that is. He liked all of us, and he didn't care that we were greasers. He's pretty interesting too, being a history professor and all.

"What's wrong with it is that he's marrying..."

She floundered after that, trying to complete her thought, but she couldn't. And all that told us was that she was just pissed because of the fact that her dad was getting married. Two-Bit actually was laughing by that point. I don't think boyfriends are supposed to do that. The rest of us just stared at her, but eventually Steve started laughing, and Soda too, so Bridget just gave up on us and sat on the couch and watched _Dick Van Dyke_. I still don't see what's wrong with her dad getting married. She's kinda being immature about it. And she's one of the most mature people I know.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I saw the callout sheet for the spring play hanging up on the bulletin board today. I almost went to go tell Bridget about it, bit she was already looking at it. But then, and this is really confusing, Lydia came up, starting talking to her, and led her away from it. What was that for? Bridget likes that stuff; why wouldn't Lydia want her to do it?

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I'm so mad at myself right now. I actually lost my copy of _Gone With the Wind_ that Johnny left to me. I haven't finished it, don't know if I ever will, but it's still a piece of Johnny, all that I have left of him. Kinda like dad's truck. I think I'm just gonna go curl up in the fetal position and cry now.

XXXXX

**A/N: Pardon typos. ** **Reviews and** **constructive criticism always welcome. :)**


	7. Inanimate Objects Deserve Goodbyes

**Author's Note: I know, I know. I FINALLY updated. 'Bout goddamn time. I've just been really focused on finishing "Desperadoes", and school is coming up soon. **

**But... Here's the next chapter. **

**Happy reading. :)**

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Guess what? We got another new kid! Yay! Just what this school needs.

Alright, I know I sound mean, but as far as new kids are concerned, they haven't exactly worked out for me. (*cough* Rocky and Lydia *cough*) Bridget is the only one, and even she's been acting weird lately.

I don't know anything about the new kid, but I'm curious. Soc or greaser? Or maybe middle class? Boy or girl? Do they dress nice if they're a girl, or like a slut? If they're a guy, do they play a sport, or do they think they're above that stuff, like Steve and Two-Bit? I have more questions, but I wouldn't want to waste paper. Seriously, I could ask hundreds of questions.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Have you heard of the movie "Reefer Madness"? (Who am I talking to? Myself? Never mind. I guess I'm talking to whoever's reading this. WHICH NO ONE SHOULD BE EXCEPT MYSELF.) Well, it's this movie from the late thirties about marijuana. We watched it in health. It's really terrible. I wouldn't suggest watching it, it's really that terrible. I'm pretty sure using marijuana doesn't do all THAT to you.

Darry told me he remembers watching that in school. He said that it is stupid, but I still should try to take the message seriously, yada, yada, yada. I don't even know where I would get any drugs, let alone marijuana.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Things are tense at home. Darry and Sodapop are working too much. I don't see them enough. It makes me sad.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Okay. That's it. I'm just gonna see what in the hell Christine wants, because she keeps bugging me about whether or not I like her. As if I don't already have enough to worry about. It doesn't even make sense! I'm a grease, she's a soc. She's a cheerleader. Why would she even like me? She should be dating someone like... Well, I don't really know a lot of soc guys, but you know what I mean.

So I'm gonna see what she wants. I just have to figure out a way to do it without drawing a lot of attention. Maybe I could leave her a note like she's been doing. Or should I just confront her? That probably wouldn't be too good, considering how we are practically two different people. I'll figure something out, I will.

I don't know if I even want to be in a relationship with anyone right now. I'm pretty content with just my brothers and friends, and girls are just confusing anyways. So I really don't know how much I want to do this. But I guess it's the best thing to do, because I just really want Christine to stop bothering me. I don't want a girlfriend, let alone a soc one.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Okay, I figured out what I'm gonna do, and Bridget is the main reason why.

Here's what's gonna happen. Bridget knows Christine from being on the cheer squad, so she sees her everyday. What I'm gonna do is I'm gonna write a note to Christine, give it to Bridget, and Bridget will give it to Christine. Good plan, right?

See, I kinda feel like a coward for not just going up to her and talking to her, but it wouldn't be right. The whole situation isn't right. People will think it's... Socially unacceptable, I guess? Yeah, that's what I'm looking for.

I think it's surprising that Bee's still a cheerleader. I didn't think she was that kind of girl anymore. Scratch that; she's not that girl anymore. I think she's just pretending to be that girl. Wouldn't that mean she's lying? Not just to everyone at school, but herself too? Why do something that you really don't want to do? That's what's so confusing to me, ya know? Girls are just confusing period. They do stuff just to fit in. That isn't right. I wouldn't do that, it's not being honest.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I have figured out who "you" is. Whenever I say "you", I mean the journal. So, journal, you're you.

I must be losing it. I'm treating a journal like I would a person.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I met the new kid today. I'd say she's pretty normal, nothing special.

Personality-wise, she seems somewhat nice. Maybe a bit annoying, but otherwise, she doesn't seem too bad. Looks-wise, she actually looks like Rose. Her hair is lighter though, with a bit more blonde. And her eyes are brown, not green. And she has freckles, and her teeth don't have that little gap. Plus, Rose wears pants a lot. The new girl, Phoebe Child, just looks like she's middle class. She doesn't dress like a super slut, but she doesn't look like her clothes cost a lot of money.

Ya know, come to think of it, I don't know what Rose is. She lives right on the border. My guess is either middle class, like Phoebe, or greaser, like me. It'd be kinda nice if she was a greaser, I suppose. That way, it wouldn't be weird for us to hang out, because I really like talking to Rose. I want to talk to her soon. I finished the albums she gave me awhile ago, so I guess that gives me an excuse to go see her.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

The guys keep talking about this party. By guys, I mean everyone except Darry. Darry doesn't do parties.

Anyway, it's all just talk right now. Apparently, some guy, who I don't even think goes to our school or is even in high school, is talking about having it. Sodapop was saying that the guy bought this big old abandoned road out on state road thirteen, and he fixed it up a bit. Just so it's livable. He got it cheap, too. The house had been foreclosed on, and was so old that no one really wanted to take the time to fix it up. They were gonna tear it down, but then this guy bought it. I don't even know his name, but I guess word is getting around.

No one knows when it is, or if it's even happening, but people still keep talking about it. Maybe it's just a really big party, and there's gonna have to be a lot of planning.

I bet Darry won't let me go, but I don't think that's fair. I'm fifteen, I can take care of myself. I wish he wouldn't worry about me so much. He worries too much about everything, not just me.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Darry's having the old truck towed away in a couple days. I'm gonna miss it. I have a lot of good memories of that truck. Road trips, joyrides around town, driving to the Dingo...

I suppose I'll still have all those memories, but like I've said before, the truck just represents all of them. So I'll be sad when it's gone.

I still haven't found 'Gone With the Wind.'

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I managed to embarrass myself in science today. Jason didn't even try to help me.

Science interests me sometimes, but not often. Today was not one of the days where I'm interested. So I was just sitting there, resting my hand in my chin, pretending to pay attention. Well, I guess I was really bored, because I was asleep before I knew it. Then I guess I sorta slumped down in my chair, because I was on the floor in no time at all.

Well, everyone thought that was pretty funny. Everyone except my teacher. I wish they hadn't laughed. I wish they'd leave me alone. I mean, most of those kids are socs, so they aren't gonna be too friendly to me. Sometimes I feel as though the best thing for me to do is to just start freaking out in the middle of class, and the teacher will just send me home. I mean, no one wants to talk to that kid who flipped out just because his paper had a rip in it.

But I think that would just be even more embarrassing.

I have Saturday detention. Darry is not happy.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

The truck got towed away today. Sodapop and I watched from the porch while Darry talked to the guy taking it away. I've found out that Darry was talking to him about where they're taking it, and what exactly will happen to it. They're gonna take it to the junkyard, and then they'll turn it into one of those cubes. You know what I'm talking about.

Anyway, the two of us sat on the front porch, and Darry stood just outside the fence, and all three of us watched dad's old truck get towed off to the junkyard.

That truck wasn't the last thing I have of my dad. But... It was the thing that always reminded me that he had been around at one point. I mean, I remember my parents well, but the longer they're dead, the more they become just memories. The truck was proof that he was here, on this earth, not that long ago. And now it's gonna become a little, smashed-up cube.

I didn't even get to say goodbye.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I served my detention today. Not fun. This is the first time I've ever had to do it, and I now know for sure that I don't wanna do it ever again. I didn't even have Steve or Two-Bit there to keep me company.

Detention is a really awful thing, journal. You see, you're not allowed to talk. You probably also can't do homework, but that depends on the teacher who's in the room. My teacher wouldn't let me do homework, and I had three hours to kill. So basically, I sat there and stared at the back of the head of the guy in front of me. The only sounds in the room was the clock, and sometimes some kid would start drumming his fingers on his desk. And it was hot. Really hot! My school doesn't have central air, so I was sweating like a greased pig.

The only somewhat-okay part of detention was that I was in a room I had never been in before. Mr. Carson's room. He's an English teacher for the juniors. So I guess I might have him next year. His room had posters with lots of literary quotes on them.

"Certain things, they should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone."

-J.D. Salinger

"He knew everything there was to know about literature, except how to enjoy it"

- Joseph Heller

"I like good strong words that mean something…"

― Louisa May Alcott

Those were my favorite ones. I haven't read any of those books. Well, I started 'Catch-22'. Bridget really likes it, but I didn't finish it. It's good, but it's slow.

So, anyways, detention is not something I'd want to do again. Two-Bit says he's served it over twenty times. I have no clue how he could do that.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Remember that kid that got mad at me? He threw a pencil at the back of my head today. Several, actually. Again, this is another moment where I wish people would just leave me alone. I didn't do anything to them, and I don't think I deserve to be fucked with. Seriously! This guy is bothering me, Christine Sweeney is, I think one of my fork ends is drifting away... What the hell did I do to deserve this!?

I just need to talk to someone. I'm gonna go talk to Soda, he'll know what to do. Hopefully, he'll be home early not me.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Why do people think I'm interested in girls? I'm not. See, Bee thinks I like Rose because I wanna go to the record store again, but I just wanna say hi and get some new records. Bob Dylan is good, but it's time to branch out. You know what I mean.

I have just felt very confused lately. See, I thought school was a place where I could go and just learn stuff, but instead, everyone likes to bring all this extra stuff to it. What I mean is, everyone makes school really complicated, with he-likes-her, she-said-this, they-did-that sorta stuff. Then they take it outside of school too, so I'm always worrying about this stuff. I don't think that's fair. I have enough to worry about.

XXXXX

**A/N: Finally, a new chapter! Updates will be more regular now that "Desperadoes" is done. **

**A couple notes:**

**-The Joseph Heller quote is from 'Catch-22'. **

**-The J.D. Salinger quote is from 'The Catcher in the Rye'. **

**-The Louisa May Alcott quote is from 'Little Women'. **

**Pardon typos. I'd love a review! Just a quick little note on how I'm doing and how you like the story would be great. :)**


	8. We Are Out of Shampoo

**Author's Note: Alright, next chapter. **

**Quick note: I edited the last chapter, so you might wanna go read it. It's a bit different than it's original form. **

**Anyways... Happy reading. :)**

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Okay, so I was doing the math, and I figured out about how many days of school I have left. Not in the year, I mean. I mean in all of high school. So I here's hat I figured: I've been in high school one full year, and that was about one hundred and seventy days. It's mid-November now, and we have Thanksgiving break in about a week and a half. So I've been in school about... Sixty eight days this year. That means I have about 172 days left, and all of that is counting weekends and snow days and stuff. So is the sixty eight. Really, the sixty eight and 172 just represent how long I've been a sophomore. So 172 and sixty eight is 240. Two hundred and forty times two is 480. So 480 plus 172 is 652. So roughy, I have 652 days of high school left. That doesn't count summers, but it does count weekends and cancelled days. With summers, it's 818. I think that's mostly right.

I have a long way to go, journal, and I ain't looking forward to it.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

You know what's not fair? I did the math for my friends, and I figured that Two-Bit has freaking 172 days left! Naturally, because he's a senior, and that's what's left in the year (counting breaks and weekends. But why do you care, journal?) but after that, he's done. However, since Two-Bit was stupid enough to even want to repeat his junior year (it was a want to, not a need to sorta thing), he would've been in high school longer. So there, Two-Bit Mathews. I win this round.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Remember the party I told you about? Well, it's happening! It's at that big house, and apparently, this guy who's hosting it has fixed the house up enough to have it. I don't know why I'm so excited for this party. I've never really liked parties. I mean, my parents had a hard time getting me to go to small ones like birthday parties when I was a kid. The last birthday party I went to was in the fourth grade. They sorta taper out after that.

Anyway, enough about birthday parties. This is a real party, like the ones Dally would've gone to. It's probably gonna have beer and stuff, but I'm finding that I don't care. Which I really don't get, because I've never been one for parties, let alone one with drugs and stuff. I've always been a quiet guy. But I'm excited! Maybe it means I'm growing up or something...? I don't know. My friends like these sort of parties, and they're older. So I guess it comes with age.

I convinced Soda to take me to the record store tomorrow. I told him he could just drop me off and pick me up later, but it's his day off tomorrow and he said he'd like to meet Rose. It's okay though, because I think the two of them will get along real well.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Soda and I got to visit Rose today. She looked happy to see me. I introduced her to Sodapop, and she politely shook his hand and said hi. Then they talked a bit. I was surprised that Rose didn't like, fall in love with him and want to start snogging with him right then and there. But, Rose is just a year younger than me, so I guess she might be in the same boat as me with the whole boyfriend/girlfriend stuff.

Anyways, she gave me some new albums. I got 'Flowers' by the Rolling Stones, a couple Bob Dylan singles, and a single by The Byrds. I'm exited to listen to them. They look good.

Rose and I talked a bit too. School, teachers, normal stuff like that. She asked me what high school was like.

"It's not all that great, Rose," I told her. "When you come next year, you probably won't like it. Not to freak you out, but it's just got a lot of drama."

Rose just kinda nodded like she knew that already.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she said. "I'm not exactly looking forward to it. But I don't got much of a choice, do I?"

She laughed, and I did too. Then Sodapop told me that we needed to pick up some stuff for dinner, and that we should probably leave. I said bye to Rose, and she gave me one of those smiles where I could see the small gap in her teeth, and she waved.

"She's a nice girl, Pony," Soda said as we drove to the grocery store. I nodded.

"Yeah, she is. Real nice."

We didn't talk much after that. I didn't mind though, because I got to look at my new records.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

We are out of shampoo.

I repeat: We are out of shampoo.

Dammit, Soda. Now my hair's gonna be all gross. Having naturally greasy hair and using hair oil is just plain nasty.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I'm excited, journal. Wanna know why? Well, it has to do with English composition. See, we're starting on this big paper real soon, and we're gonna have our papers edited by peers and stuff, which is really cool. I'm excited. Mrs. White is making a big deal of it, so I will too. I figure it must be something pretty cool. To get ready for it, we're gonna practice peer editing each other's papers, and we'll edit our desk partner's writing. Remember that girl, Phoebe, that I wrote about? She's my desk partner. English composition is one of her classes, and Mrs. White did some rearranging when she came. So instead of sitting next to a guy I suspect does drugs, Phoebe sits next to me. That's how I met her. I like her so far, and she's definitely better than the guy I used to sit next to. Easier on the eyes too.

Anyway, for now we have to write a different paper. The topic is "Write about someone you miss."

Hmm.

I have a lot of people that I miss. It just says "someone", so I don't know if that means only one person, or if it could be more than one. I could seriously write four different essays on based on this prompt.

My gut tells me Johnny. Johnny, my best friend, the one who told me to stay gold, who I was with when he died, who was with me through thick and thin. But, that's not fair to my parents or Dallas. Dallas was one of my buddies too, and my parents were, well, my parents. So I really don't know.

I don't think every kid in the class has someone they could miss. Not everyone has lost people like I have. So if they haven't lost anybody, who could they miss? I dunno, journal. It'll be interesting to see how this turns out for everybody. But in the meantime, I gotta figure out who I'm even gonna write about.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Phoebe and I did some peer editing on some of our free writing today. Mrs. White says its practice for when we get to that big project. I was trying really hard to focus on editing Phoebe's paper, but the whole time she just kept talking about this Josh Peterson guy, and if I know him. Which I don't. I don't know why Phoebe would care anyways. She did edit my writing though, even though she wouldn't stop talking. She's a confusing girl.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

You know how I feel about Steve, journal. You know I'm not his biggest fan. But sometimes, Steve surprises me, genuinely surprises me. Like he did today. Lemme tell you about it.

I've told you about Will a few times, journal. I know I have. He's the kid who's retarded, but you know that. On to what Steve did. Remember how I told you awhile back that I saw him and Steve walking together in the hall? Well, I saw it again, and it's happening more frequently. I don't know why Steve would, this isn't something he usually does, ya know. I mean, I don't see Steve having the patience for someone that's mentally retarded like that. Anyway, he does it a lot. So I wanna know what's going on. I do, journal. I wanna know this side of Steve. Steve isn't all bad always. Sometimes I really hate him, like when he's being a jerk to me, but other times he isn't all that bad. Sodapop wouldn't make friends with a total asshole, and keep up the friendship for this long. So Steve isn't a bad guy... He's just a jerk.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

I heard this really high-pitched sound outside this morning. I was in the kitchen with Darry while he cooked breakfast, and that's when I heard it. It sounded a bit like a bird chirping over and over without stopping.

"Did you hear that?" I asked Dar. He looked over his shoulder and nodded slowly.

"Yeah I did," he drawled.

Then Darry turned off the burner, and headed towards the back porch. I heard him fling the door open, and his big feet stomping around. Then, all of a sudden, they stopped. Just like that, he got real quiet.

"Hey Pone, come check this out," he whispered through the screen door.

I stood up, figuring if Darry was telling me to come look, it wasn't anything dangerous. I fast-walked to the back porch, and went outside. When I got out there, I found Darry sitting on one of the back steps with one of his hands sticking into the bushes.

"C'mere," he instructed, waving his free hand to gesture me over.

I slowly walked over and knelt beside him, and looked to where his hand was. And in the bushes, there was a small, white kitten mewing loudly.

"So that's the sound we were hearing," I whispered. Dar nodded.

"Yeah, it was," he confirmed. "This guy's real little. His eyes are still blue. See?"

I looked more closely, and he was right. The more I looked, I realized that he had eyes that were bluer than Dally's. It was cool.

"Ain't you scared of holding your hand out like that?" I asked Darry. He shook his head.

"Naw, Pone. He won't do anything. He's too little to do much." Darry paused for a second, just kinda letting the kitten nudge at his hand. The little guy kept doing it, like he expected to get through his hand.

"What should we do with him?" I asked.

"Well, I dunno. He's too little to take care of himself. And it looks as though his mama just abandoned him here. Or she died."

That made me sad. Why would she just abandon him? He's too small to take care of himself, Darry said so. I thought animals were supposed to know how to do this stuff. It's in their nature or something.

"I guess we could keep an eye on 'im," I suggested. "I mean, just make sure he gets food and stuff."

Darry nodded slowly, like he was actually considering my suggestion.

"Yeah, I s'pose we could. I don't wanna leave him to fend for himself..."

Darry trailed off, and it was right then that I realized that Darry would let him stick around. He wouldn't send the little guy of to a shelter, or out alone in the woods. I smiled. I don't know why Darry allowed it, but he did. And I was glad.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Well, it's official. There's no getting rid of that kitten now; he's got a name. I named him Max. The whole gang knows him now, and he hasn't even been around that long. But the gang's around the house a lot, so it isn't so strange. Bridget came over for the first time in awhile yesterday, and I introduced her to him and everything.

"He's real small," I told her. "So you gotta be careful. And be nice. He's still kinda skittish."

Bridget just kinda laughed a bit, and she picked Max up and set him in her lap. He looked a lot smaller now that he was next to a person, but I knew he wasn't some runt or something. Darry says that when kittens are real little, their moms usually take care of them, but since she ain't around, we have to make sure he's taken care of.

"Where'd you find him?" Bee asked.

So I told her all about the other day, how we heard the high-pitched noises, and Darry came outside and found him in the bushes right by the porch.

"We're gonna let him stay outside," I continued. "Darry says he'll probably like it better, and I figure it'd cost less too. And he'll catch mice and stuff."

Bridget nodded, and continued stroking Max's head. Watching her sit there, holding Max and just smiling, really reminded me of how she was when I first met her. Just kinda in this constant pleasant mood, at least on the outside, and she had this soft voice when she spoke that I hardly get to hear anymore. It made me think of Two-Bit, that his girlfriend's knee was touching mine, his girlfriend who didn't always look happy anymore, who didn't really talk in that soft voice anymore. Bridget's become so confusing to me nowadays, and I've told you once, journal, I've told you a thousand times, and I don't like it.

But right then, as she just let Max nudge up against her and she petted him, she was there. She was. And Two-Bit knows it too, 'cuz he was standing in the door jamb watching us, and his face said it all. He saw her too, and I felt bad because no one knows how to keep her this way.

Darry's ordering pizza for dinner. Journal, I've had a really good couple days. And I'm pretty sure I owe a lot of that to Max.

XXXXX

Dear Journal,

Oh my god, journal. I have the weirdest friends ever.

Nothing spectacular was supposed to happen last night. We were just gonna order pizza, and just hang out and talk. Soda, Darry, and Steve all had work the next day, so that's why we didn't go out. Anyway, Darry ordered the pizza, and in the time that he did that and the pizza actually got there, Two-Bit got drunk, and he had let Bridget pull his hair into a bunch of ponytails with all these hair bands she had. By the time she was done, Two-Bit had about six ponytails, and Sodapop and Steve thought it was just the funniest thing on the planet. I thought it was pretty funny too, seeing a guy, especially a tough guy like Two-Bit, like that. Even Darry laughed a bit.

So the pizza came, right? Well, Two-Bit completely insisted in his drunken stupor that he get the door, and he staggered on over to it and opened it up. On the other side was the pizza guy, and when he looked up, he just stared at Two-Bit, not saying anything. We should've seen this coming, journal. No one even bothered to take out the ponytails in Two's hair, so he stood there in front of the pizza guy, who was staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights with his mouth wide open, and kept asking him what the hell he was staring at. Those were his exact words. Soda and Steve were cracking up because they realized why the guy was so surprised. Two-Bit never made the connection. Eventually, Darry stood up and paid the guy and he left. When he closed the door, everyone started laughing really hard, and Darry told Bridget not to do Two-Bit's hair ever again.

XXXXX

**A/N: Another chap! I'm gonna try to start updating once a week from now on. :)**

**Pardon typos. Reviews would seriously make my day! Seriously, more reviews=faster updates. **


End file.
